Redundant

"Take the rest of the day off", they said
after the horse-kick. I'd be up in arms
if not doubled-over ingesting, breathing; dead
in the water, marshalling my coming to terms.
Why me? Why not him instead?
You rationalise, searching for lost norms
in twenty working years that must be shed.
You want to hide your head from false alarms.
Under the big sky's overview,
the land no longer needs beneficent cloud;
a man-lift's hydraulic platform, stuck
in idle yellow, hangs beneath the blue -
the birdless air suspends its scissor cut
where hogweed and rough chervil edge the ground.